Lord Emrys
by chimingofthebells
Summary: Arthur is about to be killed, but the sorcerers are interrupted when their lord Emrys commands them to let Arthur go free.


"_Stop!" _

Merlin's voice is a terrible sound, hoarse from the all the screaming he's done already.

"_Stop!" _

The sounds are ripped from deep within Merlin's throat, thin with overuse and dissolved in sobs. Through the haze Arthur can hear Merlin struggling against the chains, feet kicking against the floor.

Then Arthur's skin erupts in pain as the tip of the hot poker presses into his thigh. He groans against the gag in his mouth, strains against his bonds to twitch away, away, but the hot poker stays.

"Arthur Pendragon," the sorceress croons, "Now you too know the pain of fire."

She takes the poker away, leaving Arthur panting and gasping from pain. He sags against the wall, held up by his wrists bound above his head. His head thuds against the stone, but the fire in his leg consumes him and blocks out any other pains.

As if his head is submerged in water, the sounds of Merlin's protests are muffled.

"_Please, stop, stop hurting him, stop, stop!" _

Arthur screams through the gag as the poker touches him a second time.

"You will bleed into the earth, and once the gods have accepted the sacrifice we will ask them to restore our power. And they will."

The sorceress draws another line of pain down Arthur's chest.

"Stop!" Merlin cries, "Take me instead!"

Arthur stares at Merlin. He widens his eyes, begging him to take it back. Merlin stares determinedly away from Arthur, directing his glare at the sorceress.

She smirks and turns to face Merlin. "Such loyalty is commendable," She tells him, "But the gods will only accept the blood of a prince for such a spell. Besides, we have no quarrel with you. Once we are done with the prince we will let you go free."

"Take me," Merlin repeats, "Do not hurt Arthur."

"We do not take orders from you," The sorcerer's brother says, "So keep your mouth shut."

"Your time has come, prince." The sorceress raises the dagger and positions it at Arthur's throat.

"Stop!" Merlin shouts, as she yanks Arthur's head back by the hair, "Stop! Don't hurt him! Stop! _Your lord Emrys commands you to stop!" _

Everything seems to freeze. The sorceress pauses, blade still held to Arthur's throat. She and her brother turn, and Arthur looks at Merlin to see that he is no longer kicking and straining to escape his bonds. He looks angry, glaring at the sorcerers with none of the desperation he had a minute ago.

"What did you say?"

"I said," Merlin says slowly, "That your lord Emrys commands you to let Prince Arthur go free."

"What do you know about Emrys?"

"You claim to be followers of Emrys," Merlin says darkly, "Yet you would spill Arthur's blood. For that Emrys would punish you."

The sorcerers ook at each other, then back at Merlin.

"You do not speak for Emrys, you do not have the authority," The sorcerer protests.

"I have authority," Merlin says, "I am him. I am Emrys, your lord. And I command you to let Prince Arthur go."

The hand in Arthur's hair loosens, but the blade remains on his neck. Emrys? Arthur has no idea who Emrys is, or why Merlin would claim to be him, but Merlin is speaking with authority laden in his voice and the sorcerers are responding to it.

"You are not Emrys," The sorceress says, though she sounds unsure. "Emrys is no servant."

"You know the prophecies," Merlin says, "You know that Emrys is destined to place Arthur on the throne. Do you deny it?"

"Emrys is mislead," The sorceress declares.

"Arthur will not unite Albion, he will destroy it," The sorcerer adds.

"Then you are denying the prophecies, and you will be punished for it."

The sorcerers peer at Merlin suspiciously. The blade drops from Arthur's throat.

Merlin rattles the iron chains that bind his hands. "You are keeping your lord captive and restraining his magic. Do you think this will put you in the gods' favor?"

"You are not Emrys," The sorceress insists, "You cannot be."

"Unbind me," Merlin says, "And find out."

She pauses.

"If you free me and I am not who I say I am, then you have nothing to fear. If you keep me bound and I am your lord, the gods will punish you, you have my word."

Arthur is shaking, not only from the pain. He wants to scream at Merlin to stop this nonsense, it will only get him killed. If they cut him down, they'll see that he isn't this Emrys, and they'll kill him…

"Let me down," Merlin says, and it sounds like an order.

The sorcerers exchange another look. The brother edges forward, withdrawing a key from within his tattered robe, and unlocks the iron cuffs at Merlin's wrists.

When the cuffs fall open, Merlin rolls his shoulders, rubs at his wrists. Arthur and the sorcerers all watch him intently, waiting for him to do anything.

First Merlin locks eyes with Arthur. There's something in his expression, apprehension, and suddenly Arthur is very, very scared.

He flinches when Merlin's eyes go molten golden without him having to incant any spell. The sorcerers go flying backwards, crashing together and pinned against the wall.

"You call yourselves my followers, yet you deny the prophecies and go against my will." Merlin's eyes are still gold, trained on the sorcerers as they struggle against the invisible forces holding them to the wall. "You would kill Prince Arthur for your own gain."

"We were only trying to-"

Merlin shuts him up with a glare. He turns his golden gaze to Arthur, who shrinks away.

Merlin has become something great and terrible. Free from his bonds, he stands tall in the center of the room, fists clenched, jaw set, lips one hard line across his face. Arthur can feel the power radiating from him. There's rage in his face, a kind of fierce passion that Arthur has never seen in Merlin before.

Merlin strides forward, and Arthur flinches away, tries to make himself as small as possible to deflect whatever blow Merlin is about to inflict. He pants and groans around his gag and screws his eyes shut as Merlin comes closer, closer, until he's pressed up against him and his lips are in Arthur's ear.

"I'll explain later," Merlin whispers, "For now please, just trust me."

Then Merlin is removing the gag from Arthur's mouth and there's a soft _click, _and the shackles around Arthur's wrists are falling open.

"Merlin?"

Merlin only nods at him and takes a step back, facing the terrified sorcerers again. With a series of whimpers, they crash to the hard stone floor. Merlin watches them, expression cold, as they scramble to their knees and begin to wring their hands before him.

"You are followers of Emrys?"

The sorcerers nod.

"Yet you were going to sacrifice Prince Arthur to the gods. Why?"

The sorcerers say nothing, only look up at Merlin, terrified.

"_Why?_" Merlin bellows, startling the sorceress into an answer.

"W-we were trying to do you a service, lord," She stammers, "The prophecies do say that you are to serve Arthur and put him on the throne, yes, but w-we believe that it cannot be. You are too great, lord, too powerful to remain a servant to one who has been so cruel to our kind. We were only trying to free you of that burden, lord."

If possible, Merlin's face turns even darker.

"Meddling with destiny is a dangerous thing," He says in a low voice, "And the prophecies do not lie. Did you think I would thank you? Did you think that the gods would thank you?"

"We thought it was for the best," The sorceress' whimper is so small that Arthur can barely hear it.

Merlin glares down at the two sorcerers at his feet. For ten heartbeats he only glares at them, fury building until Arthur was sure that the sorcerers would die right there.

"Kneel," Merlin finally says. Confused, the sorcerers place their hands on the ground before them, bowing their heads to Merlin.

"Not to me," Merlin growls, "To Arthur."

The sorcerers look up at Merlin, then turn to look at Arthur. Arthur stares at them and tries to put on a face of confidence to hide the whirl of anger and fear inside him.

"With all due respect, lord," The sorcerer says, "we cannot bow to the prince. He has caused so much pain-"

"Kneel to him," Merlin commands, "or Avalon will not welcome you to its shores."

The sorcerers sag and shuffle around so that they're facing Arthur, bowing their heads.

"He is your prince," Merlin declares, moving to stand next to Arthur, "And one day he will be your king. He will be better than his father before him, I promise you that. He will bring about the golden age, as the prophecies predict, and I will be there to guide him to it. If you claim me as your lord, then you accept him as your king."

"Yes, lord," The sorcerers say together.

"Good."

With that, Merlin waves his hand and a section of the wall vanishes, leaving an opening for Merlin and Arthur to step through and onto the road leading back to Camelot.

"Go home," Merlin tells the sorcerers over his shoulder, "And be sure to tell anyone else with _doubts _that they have nothing to fear."

He waves his hand and then the wall is repaired, and Merlin and Arthur are standing alone on the side of the road.

Merlin sags, and Arthur immediately stumbles backwards.

"What," Arthur shouts, "the hell was that?"

Merlin looks at Arthur, and all the terrifying power is gone from his face. What is left is fear and guilt.

"Emrys?" Arthur shouts, "Emrys? Who is Emrys? Why did they call you 'lord?' _You have magic!" _

Merlin sighs.

"Yes, Arthur, I have magic. Please let me explain."

"You've had magic," Arthur spits, lacing his voice with as much venom as possible, "All this time. All this time you've been using magic in Camelot, and I thought- I thought-"

"Arthur, please!" Merlin says, "Please listen to me."

"You're a sorcerer."

"Yes," Merlin sighs, "Let me explain." He gestures to the road, starting to walk in the direction of Camelot, but Arthur steps in his way.

"No," He says, "You are not going back to Camelot. Explain first."

Merlin looks like he's about to protest, then stops.

"Fine," He says, "Yes, I have magic. I was born with it. I couldn't help it. I never learned it, I didn't seek it out, and Arthur," He paused to make sure he was looking Arthur directly in the eye, "I promise you, I never used it against you or Camelot. I have only ever used it to serve you. That's what it's for."

Arthur looked back, trying to decide if Merlin was telling the truth. It couldn't be, it couldn't, because even if magic isn't evil it certainly isn't _good, _and Merlin is all things good and absolutely cannot be anything else. But that man before, who had the evil sorcerers begging on their knees for mercy, that wasn't a man who was all things good. That man was angry and frightening and powerful.

"Who is Emrys?" Arthur asks, "Why did you claim to be him?"

"I am him," Merlin says. "Look. The druids have a name for me that came from their ancient prophecies. These prophecies told of a golden age where sorcerers and common men could live together in peace, when Albion would be united under one banner. That age would be brought by you, Arthur, and…and Emrys would be Arthur's servant. They say Emrys is the most powerful sorcerer of his time and that he will be at Arthur's side always."

"So that you can control me?" Arthur spits.

"No!" Merlin protests, eyes bulging, "No, no, we don't want to control you. All we want is peace, not power. Just peace and the freedom to live."

Arthur looks Merlin up and down suspiciously. "And people believe this? Your 'followers?' "

Merlin rubs the back of his neck. "They believe them, yes. They believe the prophecies and that I'm favored by the gods."

"And are you? Favored by the gods?"

Merlin shrugs. "I don't even know if I really am the most powerful sorcerer of this time," he says helplessly, "I have power, yes, but so far I've done nothing great."

Arthur scowls. "And you lord over the other sorcerers? Like you're some kind of king?"

"I don't," Merlin says, shaking his head. "I don't like to put myself above the others. Most of them have far more knowledge of magic than I do. But it comes in handy, like just now. They were going to kill you."

Arthur crosses his arms. "You didn't let them kill me."

"No," Merlin says, "I didn't. You're my friend."

In saying that, Arthur struggles to remember that this is the same man who horrified the sorcerers minutes before. The man who stands in front of Arthur now is the kind, bumbling servant that Arthur has always known, friendly, loving, not malicious at all.

"Will you turn me in to your father?" Merlin asks, voice small.

Arthur sighs. Uther is slumped in a chair back in Camelot, wrapped in a blanket and still reeling at Morgana's betrayal, even after all these months. If Arthur told him he would only order Arthur to burn Merlin. If Arthur didn't tell him, Uther would never know.

"No," Arthur says finally, "You saved my life. For that you may live."

Merlin sags with obvious relief. "Thank you, sire." His face spreads into a bright smile, illuminated by the glow of the sun.

Which reminds Arthur that it is getting late. The sun is dipping lower in the sky, and soon it will be too dark to travel safely.

"Come on," Arthur says, "We should be going. Where are the horses?"

"Lost when we were ambushed," Merlin says, sheepishly.

Arthur grimaces. "Then we'll have to walk. It'll take us hours longer to reach home."

They both look down the road in the direction of Camelot, where it disappears into the shade of the thick woods.

"No matter," Arthur says, "This will give us more time to talk. You still have a lot to explain."

"Of course, sire," Merlin says, bounding to walk next to Arthur as Arthur starts walking down the road. "What do you want to know?"

"It wasn't Will who conjured that wind back in Ealdor, was it?"

"Well, no. It's a bit of a long story…"

With Merlin talking and Arthur listening, the two walk side by side and begin the long journey home.


End file.
